


good as hell

by MoonDrunkWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale deserves all the good things!!, Drunk Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Derek Hale, Lizzo song lyrics, M/M, Mates, Sappy Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates, Stiles Stilinski's Jeep's Name is Roscoe, Stiles Wears a Dress, Stiles wears makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonDrunkWolf/pseuds/MoonDrunkWolf
Summary: Derek returns after a week away from home, and he just wants to sleep for another week - preferably with his mate right next to him. Stiles has other ideas though and welcomes him home with an unintentional surprise.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ethan/Danny Mahealani
Comments: 4
Kudos: 190





	good as hell

**Author's Note:**

> Named after Lizzo's "Good as Hell," with lyrics sprinkled liberally throughout. The lyrics Stiles sings at the end are a combination from "Lingerie" and "Cuz I Love You." Also included, a tiny little "Friends" reference because I couldn't resist. 
> 
> Obviously, I don't own Teen Wolf or any of these characters.
> 
> Unbetaed by anyone but myself. I do not give my permission for my work to be posted on any other site.

Derek can hear the music coming from the loft before he even pulls into the parking lot. He sighs heavily; it’s nearing three o’clock in the morning and, after the long drive home from visiting their allies in Nevada, Derek had hoped that he would be able to relax when he got home. He’d thought about it the whole drive home — nearly five and a half hours since he didn’t make any stops and, after a week away from home, he’s man enough to admit that he’s missed Stiles like hell. He’d thought about it the whole ride home, coming home early, surprising Stiles in their bed, and seeing that beautiful smile on his lips when Derek woke him up with a kiss.

This is not the first time Derek’s come home to a full, raucous crowd in his loft and, hell, there’s no way this is the last time, either. Thank god he doesn’t have any close neighbors or he’d probably have the cops called over at all hours of the night; the rowdy teenagers in his pack love to take advantage of the seclusion of his place, and they’re over constantly, music or a some action movie with explosions and gun fights blasting from his stereo speakers.

Derek pretends that it annoys him, having his space constantly invaded by his pack, and he grumbles whenever his door slams open to allow for the motley bunch of teenagers who cascade through; but, if Stiles’s smirk, bright eyes, and wide smile when that occurs are anything to go by, then Derek thinks he’s losing his touch. He needs to practice his glaring again — his “bitch face,” Stiles’s voice helpfully supplies in his head— Derek’s clearly getting soft.

At the thought of noisy teenagers in his home, Derek pauses at the loft’s main entrance and looks back into the dark parking lot, which is actually entirely empty except for his Camaro and Stiles’s evergreen Jeep — poor Roscoe had died Stiles’s freshman year of college. Stiles cried for a week and still tears up sometimes when he’s had a few too many drinks. The exhausting week of negotiations has finally caught up to him, Derek thinks, he didn’t even notice the empty lot when he pulled in and parked.

Derek struggles to focus his hearing over the booming bass coming from above, and he finally locates Stiles’s heartbeat, which is beating erratically, as if he’s been running for miles, not sitting in their apartment. Curious— not worried, he’s definitely not worried that Stiles’s heart is beating like he’s about to have a heart attack— Derek grips his bags tighter and quickens his pace up the stairs.

In the upstairs hallway, the music is so loud Derek swears his heavy metal doors are rattling in place. The bass of a song he doesn’t recognize thuds painfully in his ears, so he throws his bags down as soon as the door is open and walks (okay, maybe it’s a quick jog, whatever) directly to the stereo and turns the music down to less painful, _normal_ volume.

Ears ringing, Derek sees movement in the kitchen, and he turns to see Stiles, who, unaware that the music has quieted, is still shaking his hips from side to side as he sloppily pours wine into a frankly ginormous wine glass while continuing to sing along with the woman singing about her hair toss and nails. Derek starts to make his way over to his mate, but the lyrics that follow make him pause mid-step. Stiles has finally stopped trying to pour his wine, and he throws his head back and his hands up in the air as he belts the lyrics, words occasionally slurring together.

“You know you a star, you can touch the sky! I know that it’s hard, but you have to try! If you need advice, let me simplify! If he don’t love you anymore, just walk your fine ass out the door!”

As the woman starts into the chorus again, Stiles lowers his head, eyes opening and hand bypassing the half-full glass on the bar and reaching for the bottle instead. Derek sees and hears the moment Stiles realizes he’s not alone; the bottle stops halfway to his mouth, his heartbeat thumps irregularly, and then his red lips widen into a breathtaking smile.

“Baby! Babe! You’re home!” His voice is somehow almost as loud as the music was a minute ago, and Derek smiles at his excitement. His smile falters though as Stiles makes his way around the tall bar in the middle of their kitchen, and his eyes maybe, just maybe, flash a little red when he sees what Stiles is wearing.

The dress is a tiny little thing, wrapping tightly around Stiles’s lithe form from his chest to his waist, with the skirt billowing out around his hips and thighs. It’s pitch black with sparkling shooting stars and constellations decorating the material, and the dark color against his white skin makes Stiles's moles stand out in stark contrast. Derek is made breathless, eyes moving over his gorgeous mate helplessly.

“Stiles,” he tries to say, but his voice comes out deeper than intended and only the first half of his name is perceptible. As Stiles’s bare feet move towards Derek, he realizes Stiles’s lips are a bright red courtesy of a lipstick that looks like something Erica would wear and his lashes coated in dark mascara. He doesn’t seem to realize just what he’s doing to Derek, though, as he bounces nearer until he’s finally close enough to jump into Derek’s arms, which open on instinct and catch him before he can fall.

Still slurring, Stiles nuzzles into Derek’s neck and sighs out, “Der, Der! You’re home! ‘M glad you’re here!”

Just as quickly as he had jumped into Derek’s arms, though, he’s struggling to break free. Derek lets go slowly but still has to steady him when he lands.

“Der! Der!” That wide smile is back on his face, “Baby, did you see my dress! Look! Look how pretty I am!”

“Oh, babe, believe me, I noticed,” and Derek can’t stop his eyes from roving over the form of his mate again. Stiles turns timid under his gaze, and he looks up at him shyly through his long, mascara-coated lashes.

“Do you like it?” His quiet voice is like whiplash after his previous excitement, and Derek rushes to assuage his nerves.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, pulling Stiles to him and running his hands over his shoulders and down his back to rest on the back of his thighs. “Hell yeah, I like it. I like it a lot. You look gorgeous, babe.”

Stiles’s returning smile is blinding. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, still a bit shy under Derek’s heated gaze. “The girls at the club helped me pick it out, and Erica, Alli, and Lyds gave me a makeover. ‘M so pretty, right?”

Derek hums deeply in agreement and lets his nose sneak under Stiles’s jaw so he can breathe him in. They stand silently for a moment, Stiles’s fingers running through Derek’s hair, and Derek just breathes. He’s missed this. A week away is just too long; next time, Stiles is going with him.

When Derek’s taken his fill of Stiles’s scent, he pulls back and looks at his mate with a playful smirk.

“Should I be worried about that song, babe? You going to walk your fine ass out the door?”

The pupils of Stiles’s eyes are blown wide, and they widen even more as he considers Derek’s question.

“No! No, baby! No! It was for Danny, I was singing for Danny!”

Derek looks around the room slowly before letting his gaze return to Stiles’s, “Hate to break it to you, babe, but Danny’s not here anymore.” He was though, hours ago, his scent still in the air around them.

Stiles finally takes in the entirety of the room around him and seems to realize that he was alone before Derek came home.

“Oh,” he murmurs, confusion clouding his scent momentarily. “Well,” he says, and then words start to tumble from his pretty red lips.

“Danny and Ethan had a fight! Danny thinks they’re going to break up, and he was really sad tonight, baby! We went out to the club with all the girls to make him feel better, and we did tequila, lots of tequila!”

Derek takes a moment to worry about them, but then shakes the thought away; Danny and Ethan are mates, as close and happy as he and Stiles are, and Derek knows there’s a beautiful gold engagement ring hidden in Ethan’s sock drawer. They’ll be fine, he knows.

“And Danny said he wanted to forget about Ethan,” Stiles is saying, “but I know they’re never gonna break up ‘cause they’re lobsters, right! Like Phoebs says! But Danny wanted to drink lots so we did, and then we played Lizzo! And the girls dropped us off, but Danny didn’t wanna go home so he came here, and we danced and we—”

Stiles’s pauses mid-ramble, and his head cocks to the side adorably, “Oh! Our music! Where’d Lizzo go?” He sounds so sad that he can't hear the music anymore that Derek has to hold back a laugh.

“I turned it down when I came in, babe, it was really loud.”

“Oh no,” Stiles exclaims, and his eyes begin to water. “Der, baby, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Stiles’s voice has risen in panic and, before Derek can speak to calm him, he’s pulling Derek even closer to his body. Suddenly, there are warm fingers rubbing Derek’s ears and lips on his jaw.

“Your poor wolfy ears, ‘m sorry, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll make it all better!” Derek’s ears are fine now but, for a few moments, he lets Stiles lavish attention on them, running his fingers over them and kissing up and down either side of his jaw. Suddenly, mid-kiss, Stiles’s mouth opens in jaw-cracking yawn, his lips smearing across Derek’s cheek. This time, Derek does chuckle, and he moves his hands to Stiles thighs again to lift him up.

“’M tired, babe,” Stiles says lowly in his ear, head falling to Derek’s shoulder and lolling as Derek begins to move towards the stairs that lead to their bedroom.

“Let’s go to bed, then, shall we?” Derek places his feet carefully as he makes his way up the steps and concentrates on keeping them both aloft.

In their room, Derek pulls down the zipper on the back of Stiles’s dress and carefully lays it on the back of a chair to keep it neat— he's got plans for that dress, all right, and he almost wishes he was removing it for another reason entirely. Not tonight, though; tonight, he wants to pull Stiles close, breathe him in deep, and sleep for a week. He places Stiles on the bed gently, but pauses hesitantly when he leans back and sees Stiles smeared lipstick and the mascara smudged under his eyes. Just as he’s considering a quick shower to wash the makeup from Stiles’s face, he sees that someone (probably Allison, the sweetheart) graciously left a packet of makeup removing wipes on their nightstand.

He grabs for it awkwardly, one arm still around Stiles to keep him from falling over and the other stretched oddly to reach the wipes. Stiles’s breathing is slowing, and Derek quickly removes a wipe from the packet and begins to cleanse Stiles’s face. Stiles grumbles a bit at the feeling; he might regret his tequila breath in the morning, but at least they won’t have red lipstick and foundation all over their pillows and sheets in the morning.

Finally, Stiles is clean and bare, and Derek helps him lie back on their bed. As he straightens to remove his own clothing, he hears Stiles mumbling faintly, and strains his ears to make out the words. Half-drunk and half-asleep, it’s mostly gibberish but, as he lays down next to him, Derek picks up what seems to be more lyrics to a song he doesn’t know.

“Got you something from the liquor store, little bit of Stiles— hair down, moonlit, look at my lipstick— wanna put your lips in places— I like that right there— ‘cuz I looove you.” Stiles drags out the last line as he turns onto his side, and his arms reach across the bed until he grabs onto Derek’s arm and snuggles up to him. He smacks his lips loudly and then, suddenly, he’s out like a light, chest rising and falling deeply.

Lying next to his crazy, beautiful mate, Derek feels his wolf settle in his chest, and he smiles serenely. He thinks back on the song that was playing when he came home.

_Yeah, Lizzo, yeah— I’m feeling good as hell._

(I imagine Stiles's dress looks a little like [this](https://us.shein.com/Contrast-Mesh-Square-Neck-Velvet-Dress-p-949405-cat-1727.html?scici=productDetail~~RecommendList~~1~~Customers%20Also%20Viewed~~SPcProductDetailCustomersAlsoViewedList_default~~0~~0), just without the sleeves and shorter.)


End file.
